


Commonwealth Bowling League

by WastelanderCamo



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: F/M, Longing, Slow Burn, Whining, lots of puns
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-24
Updated: 2016-05-23
Packaged: 2018-05-16 00:32:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5806390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WastelanderCamo/pseuds/WastelanderCamo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Deacon and Bullseye make a great team, even when wet</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Team Names

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be something completely different, and the next chapter will get back to what it was supposed to do but since this stands alone I've posted it.
> 
> It makes me insanely happy to see people reacting to my work. If you like it, let me know! If you don't like it, let me know that too! I can't get better if people don't correct my mistakes. Thank you so much for reading!

“You know, I’m all for helping the masses. You know, get your reputation up and all but does that mean I have to get wet all the time?” Deacon was knee deep in silty water, picking bits of mirelurk hatchling off of his pants.

“Maybe I just like the wet t shirt look on you” came a muffled reply as Bullseye rummaged through a storage trunk.

“If that’s all it is you could have just asked” He slogged through the muck to get to a rickety bridge that led to a half submerged house. “I could grease myself up and you could just pitch me towards our enemies. Raider bowling. We can monogram some shirts with our handles on them. You could be Striker and I could be –“

“Elbowl Greaser?” She interjected. He felt a huge grin split his face. He couldn’t help it. Now she was getting it. It had taken her days to even laugh at his jokes, let alone banter with him.

“Exactly! We could call our team….The Alley Cats, no that’s too close. Hmm. OH! The Gutter Sharks!”

She pulled her head out of the trunk and rocked back on her heels.

“I’m surprised you know what a shark looks like”

“I have absolutely no idea!” He put his hands on his hips proudly. She started to laugh so hard she had to sit down on the dusty planks.

“Oh Deacon” she hiccuped “You’re gutterly ridiculous”

He gasped “A pun? Unbowlievable!”

She reached a hand up to him. It took him a second to realize she was asking for help up. She never had before. He had never avoided touching her it just... never happened. She was capable of handling herself. He grabbed her wrist and something cold touched his spine. She was so. Warm. His smile faded back his trademark smirk. It was just because he was wet. That’s why the fingers wrapping around his arm felt so good. He was cold, that’s why he felt disappointed when they slipped away. He adjusted his sunglasses. She was rummaging in her pack.

“Do we have everything?” He asked, looking away.

“There’s one more piece left. I think it’s in that shed.” She motioned with her head to a shed on the bank. At least it wasn’t half underwater. “I’m going to go check” She left him so easily. And jumped straight back into the water. Was she crazy? She was going to catch her death. He picked his way across the top floor of the house, looking for a dry way down. There wasn’t one. He sighed and jumped, the water wasn’t too deep, but he could feel it seeping in the stitches of his boots, soaking his socks.

“Ueegghh” He hurried to shore. “You find it?” He yelled over to the shed. He heard a door swing open and he saw her circling from behind the building, trudging back up to where he was waiting. She shoved something brown and leathery into her pack.

“Done!” She swung her pack back on “Let’s get you back to civilization greased lightning –“ There was a loud crack. The world slowed. The ground she had stepped on had stood up. Bullseye let out a short scream of surprise as she was thrown back into the lake. Cold gripped his spine again as the razorclaw started to turn. His hunting rifle was in his hands but his shot embedded itself uselessly into the crab’s shell. He ran toward it as another shot rang out from in front. A claw flew through the air and the creature hissed. He slammed into its side, knocking them both into the water. The razorclaw’s vulnerable underbelly exposed. Bullseye dragged him back up to the surface by his collar, clearing him out of the way as she pumped two shotgun rounds into the thing’s head. It shuddered and sank. They sat in the shallows panting. He was wet, and freezing, that’s why he was shaking. That was why. Not that look of panic and fear on Bullseye’s face as she fell that was now burned into his brain. He was just cold. Just…very cold.

A hand entered his field of vision. Bullseye was standing over him, as soaking wet as he was, grinning from ear to ear as if she hadn’t almost been torn apart by a mirelurk.

“Way to pick up the spare” she hauled him to his feet.


	2. Spares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deacon and Bullseye find shelter and Deacon battles an oncoming cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is currently under revision. It may be changed. The most up-to-date revision can be found at wastelandercamo.tumblr.com

Again, he was reluctant to let go of her arm as he pulled himself up. He forced himself to pull away. He probably did it too fast, too roughly. Luckily she didn’t seem to notice, since she was nose in her pack, making sure there was no damage to the mementos they had done all this for. She didn’t seem disappointed, so he assumed everything was well. He opened and closed his fist, willing himself to stop shaking. The warmth of her skin was rapidly fading from his. A breeze picked up over the water, the mirelurks stank of putrid moss and faintly of salt. The radiation in their flesh was quickly rotting away. 

“Mongrels will be here soon, or yao guai” Deacon shook some of the mud off his arms. He hated mud. It was so hard to get completely clean in the wealth. He hated it. And now they were covered in it. He slogged his way back to shore. Every step was squishy. He heard her follow along behind. 

“Diamond City isn’t terribly far, but we wouldn’t get there before nightfall, and it goes right by a lot of raider dens.” She was on her pip-boy again. It had its uses, but he still felt it made her stick out like a sore thumb. But I guess that’s what they were going for. 

“I’d like to wring myself out before charging headlong into any more danger” He got back to the pavement and turned to watch her. “I think there might be a fish in my boot”

She looked up, surprised “Your boots aren’t waterproof?” 

“Yours are? Man, the vaults got all the good toys” He pulled off his wig, the water was sending shivers down his spine as he watched her walk out of the water, her clothes clinging to every soft angle. 

“No…I picked these up at an old military post near Tenpines. Do you have another pair of shoes that are dry?”

He chuckled “I know I tend to change my clothes a lot, but shoes are pretty bulky. And heavy. The flesh is weak, boss, I just have the one pair on me” She frowned at that. She looked…was she pouting? He reigned in the dopey grin that tried to split his face, settling on a mischievous smirk. He was good at that one. She was not impressed. 

“Then it is imperative we find appropriate shelter sooner rather than later. Somewhere away from the water, where our fire will not attract…undesirables” Oh, she was determined now. He wondered if she noticed. When she got fixed on an idea, or when she wanted to be taken seriously she ended up sounding like Danse. No slang, big words, flat tone. It was a bad tell. He would need to fix that soon, or she was going to show her hand to the wrong people one day. 

“Man, you have been spending way too much time with Danse and the Brotherhood. You’re even starting to sound like a soldier” her head snapped up from her pip-boy. Good. First get her to acknowledge the bad habit then-

“So I’ve been told” it was…icy. It chilled him more than standing around soaked. She held his gaze for a moment, letting it sink in. They weren’t going to talk about that again. Message received. He didn’t know what she saw on his face that let her know he had understood, but her eyes dropped back to her pip boy.

“There’s a coastguard outpost south of here,” she continued, her voice back to normal “but last time there were a bunch of super mutants. I think we’d be best off striking camp under the freeway”

“That’s across the river and in the opposite direction”

“It’s the high ground”

“It’s across the river”

“You’re already wet”

“I don’t wanna”

“Well yer gonna”

“But I don’t wanna”

“Then walk around the lake by yourself”

He gasped in mock indignation as he followed her back around the fence line toward the shore. There was no use arguing and they could both hear howling on the wind. 

“Fine boss, but when I catch my death of cold I expect a statue in my honor. I look best in bronze. With the inscription: ‘He told me so’ “ 

She snorted at him “Hmm more like ‘He came, he saw, he complained’ “

They waded into the water, packs over their heads.

“Where she leads me, I did not safely go” he muttered as the icy water crept up to his chest.

“Edna Millay? I’m impressed.”

“Nah, I got that one off the back of a box of Sugar Bombs” They were paddling now. The barking was louder, they had left right in time. Going back across the lake was the best choice, not that he would ever tell her that. Especially not when it encouraged her to keep him wet and miserable.

“I can feel myself getting sick” He whined as they pulled themselves onto the far shore. 

“You’re not going to get sick. We’ll make camp in a second”

“No” He mock sniffled for effect “I’m definitely getting sick”

“Then I’ll put on my nurses outfit and feed you vegetable soup”

That…was a thought. A thought that was going directly to the back of his mind where he wasn’t going to think about it because his pants were already sticking to his legs and that would be a Bad Idea and he was very glad she was in the lead because it was Very Hard to focus on how cold he was. 

“Ha!” He nearly jumped out of his skin. She was jogging now “I knew there was something here” 

She was headed towards a storage container at the top of a hill. He could see the outline of a fire pit. What luck. When he got closer he saw there was a sleeping bag. And beer. And some ammo. He found himself scanning the ground for mines. This was too good to be true. Bullseye didn’t seem to care. She was shredding some paper folders for kindling. For having been so serious earlier she sure did shake it off easily. He walked around to the other side of the container, carefully moving some brush with the tip of his boot. No mines. The fire was old and black, and weeds had started to grow in-between the concrete blocks. No one would be coming back. A small part of him wondered what fate they had met out here. Had they been some creature's meal? Perhaps some ones meal? Perhaps they just – he sneezed, loudly. He went to wipe the snot off on his shirt but found there was no clean spot. He hated mud.

“You can change, I won't watch.” he turned back to the woman on her hands and knees, blowing on a tiny flame in the center of a pile of paper and thin branches. 

“I thought you liked the wet t-shirt look” he tugged at the hem of his shirt, feeling it peel away from his skin. Bullseye rocked back on her heels and looked up at him. The cold made a knot in his stomach. Her outfit was equally as...adhesive. 

“Yeah, but I like having you in my shadow more, not cooped up at HQ with Carrington giving you a lecture and suppositories.” She wiggled an eyebrow. He tried to make a disgusted sound but it dissolved into a cough. Maybe he was getting sick. He picked up his bag and went behind the storage container to strip down. 

He was able to find a pair of patchwork pants and a ratty gray shirt that had escaped getting soaked through when he had decided to mud wrestle a mirelurk. After wringing out his clothes as best he could he hung them off the roof of the container to dry. There was almost nothing that escaped the lake. He made a mental note to clean his guns during his watch. The last thing he needed was a misfire when Bullseye decided to run headlong into danger again. The cold was reaching up his neck. He came back around to a roaring fire and a half dressed boss. She was buckling up a pair of camo pants. Probably from that military base she had mentioned. Her boots and socks were hanging off the legs of an overturned chair near the fire. She always surprised him with her little habits, like she had been living in the wastes all her life. He hung up his boots on the spare legs as she buttoned up a blue top he had never seen her wear before. It..suited her.

“So what's for dinner, Boss?” He sat as close as he could to the fire, but the cold didn't go away. He rubbed the back of his neck. That helped, a little. 

“Roasted Softshell” 

He must have made a face, because she was grinning like crazy. She brought him a beer from inside their scavenged camp. He took it, but just held it in his hands, turning it over and over. Gwinett Lager. Cool, refreshing. Cool. Refreshing. Cool.

“Deacon?” His head snapped up. She was standing over him, “Did you hear me? I said I have either iguana on a stick, or some brahman jerky. Anything else would have to cook for a while”

“Jerky's fine” it was suddenly hard to talk. He covered it up with a cough, but it had to have sounded fake. He readjusted his glasses, but he couldn't stop the small jump when he felt her hand on his back. It was so warm. She radiated heat. She always did. If he commented on it, he bet she would say something about being padded for winter but that wasn't it at all. He twisted off the cap to his beer and traded it for a piece of jerky she offered. Her other hand didn't leave his back. She was sitting too close. 

“You're really cold. I thought you were just joking about getting sick, move closer to the fire. Here, let me get the sleeping bag” Her hand left his back but he could still feel it. He took a drink, watching the fire as he heard the sound of the zipper. The ancient sleeping bag fell against his back and shoulder. She had unzipped it flat into a blanket. She settled in beside him and pulled the other corner over her shoulder as her hand went back around his waist.

“It'll be warmer with the two of us. Just until you're warmed back up.” She explained. She didn't have to. He understood 'just until's. He slid his hand over her shoulders and she scooted in so their sides were touching. They ate. Drank. One handed. The cold was still there. In the pit of his stomach, on the back of his neck. He needed to let go. This time though he could admit, to himself, that he didn’t want to. He didn’t want to see that fear on her face ever again. It was fleeting, and she was fine - but in that moment his body had numbed out. The world had felt like it was going to end. It kept repeating, over and over, the pinwheel of her arms, the way her body slipped out of his field of view. That scream cut short. It brought back – bad memories. He stood up, taking the sleeping bag with him. He took it and wrapped it around her tightly. She didn't look surprised.

“I feel better already Boss. I'll take first watch so you should get some rest. I'm gonna stay up and...clean my rifle” He winked and put on his best lecherous smirk. 

She grinned and matched him with an eyebrow wiggle “Ooh, do mine too while you're at it. You're so good at polishing the wood” she collapsed back into a heap, giggling at her own joke. 

He chuckled and walked around to where he had changed, where he had left his pack. He walked past it to the giant concrete overpass support and rested his cheek against the ruin of the old world. Cool. Refreshing. Just what he needed. The throbbing heat of her touch on his back, on his side, slowly faded. He tapped his forehead against the wall and sighed. When they got back to Diamond City they could pretend they didn't know each other. Too many eyes that could be spying for the institute. He had a guard uniform in a deaddrop near the entrance. He could put it on and take a long walk in the stands. Let her do her shopping. Chat with Nick. Repair her gear. He could put on a fancy suit, get a drink at the Taphouse. Eavesdrop. Alone. That was a good plan. Gave him something to focus on. 

He grabbed his gear and walked back around to the fire. Bullseye was still in a heap close by, but if she wasn't asleep she was doing a damn good impression of it. He sat down and pulled his rifle across his lap. He took his glasses off, carefully folded them and began to strip his weapon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of this was written a long time ago, thank you for being so patient.


End file.
